


Truth And Strategy

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2505725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A really silly sleepy fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth And Strategy

“Doctor.” Julian opens one eye, and then he looks sleepily up at Garak; part of him, a part of him he will _not_ allow to rise in Garak's presence, wants to whinge to be allowed to go back to sleep. Garak is leaning over him, his lips quirked into a slight, affectionate smile. “Is my company boring you?”

Julian suddenly remembers he is in Garak's quarters, and with that he abruptly sits up, almost headbutting the other man in his speed to no longer slump. The Cardassian watches him with slightly widened eyes, his lips twitching with obvious humour.

“No, no, Garak, I just- um-” Julian feels his cheeks go hot, and he _squirms_ slightly in his place, because Garak is looking at him with such an indulgent expression of complete entertainment, and it's _embarrassing._ “The dim lights, the heat – they affect a wish to sleep, in Human biology.”

The Cardassian lets out a quiet chuckle, and then he nods. “Ah. Of _course._ ”

“How long was I...?”

“Oh, twenty minutes or so. You gave me sufficient time to finish cooking our meal, as well as to infiltrate _two_ Romulan cells, _and_ Starfleet command.” Garak's eyes are _twinkling_ with mirth as he speaks, and Julian shakes his head, laughing a little despite being the victim of Garak's ribbing once again.

Anyone would think Garak wasn't _actually_ a spy!

“Your skills of espionage are unparalleled.” comes Julian's more than slightly sarcastic praise, and Garak offers him a hand to help him up. The Cardassian's hands are a tad cold against Julian's own, but Julian _delights_ in it, and he gives a small smile.

“Something pleasing you?” Garak asks, and Julian shakes his head, moving to sit at the dining table. Garak's quarters are simple, but comfortable, and Julian enjoys being alone with Garak in them. Not that he'd ever phrase it that way to _Jadzia._

“Your hand.” Julian says in a light tone, and something changes in Garak's face, his ridges raising a little and his grey lips parting. “It's cold. I like it.” He draws his hand away after that, then, and Garak's gaze lingers on him for a moment or two, thoughtful.

They eat in silence; as usual, Garak's cooking is completely delicious, and Julian smiles as they enjoy it together. Garak looks very _pleased_ with him for eating so slowly, and for some reason, some reason Julian cannot quite put his finger on, he feels _proud._

“You're learning to eat like a Cardassian, my dear doctor.” Garak says, and Julian laughs, giving a nod. He's about to reply when a sudden yawn takes him, and he hides his mouth behind his hand, letting out a quiet noise. “Though it would seem our ability to stay awake is not similarly conveyed.”

“I _am_ sorry, Garak. Usually I'm not like this.” And it's certainly true; usually Julian's occasional dinner with the Cardassian isn't nearly so sleepy. But, Julian could _swear_ , Garak's rooms had been darker and warmer even than usual.

“Why is it that you hide your mouth like that when you yawn, my dear?” Garak asks curiously, and Julian looks down at him for a few moments.

“Well,” Julian says, with a little laugh. “To stop the devil getting in.” Garak regards him with an alarmed expression.

“ _Pardon_?”

“It's- It's an old Human superstition: you should always put your hand over your mouth when you yawn, so that the devil doesn't get in. It's just politeness, Garak.”

“Among Cardassians, to hide one's teeth unnecessarily is a sign of submission.” Garak says lightly, and Julian's eyes widen despite himself.

“O-oh.” Julian says, and immediately, he wonders why Garak's told him that. The other man is usually so _particular_ about what he will and won't reveal, after all, and titbits of Cardassian culture are usually kept under strict secrecy unless it benefits Garak to share them. His eyes lid slightly, and this time when he yawns, his hand stops halfway en route to his mouth; he yawns freely.

Garak smirks at him.

“Are you certain you can make it back alone, my dear? I could offer you my bed.” Julian snorts.

“What, you'll sleep on the sofa just so that I don't have to walk ten minutes?”

“I don't believe I said I'd sleep on my sofa.” Garak says innocently. “Why ever would I do that?” He leans slightly closer, closing some of the distance between them by three inches or so. “It's quite sufficient for two.”

“I- I, um, but you- do you mean...? You want to? Um-”

“Sleep.” Garak supplies, firmly. “Nothing more. I assure you, my intentions are not sexual.”

“Usually, sleeping together is reserved for sexual partners.” Julian says uncertainly.

“Or romantic ones, so I am told.” Garak says, and Julian blinks at him, considering it. The idea of sleeping with Garak is- _interesting._ As is the idea of sex with Garak, of course, though not tonight.

“Oh.” Julian says. “Oh. I-” He bites his lip. He oughtn't, really. This is a _relationship_ , with _Garak_ , in _bed_ with him- “Well, Garak. I never realized you were so _interested.”_

“I am always interested in you, my dear.” Garak returns with a smirk, and Julian lets out a nervous laugh, shifting on his feet. “But I have no wish to pressure you.”

“You're not.” Julian says, and then, firmly, he undoes his Starfleet jacket, setting it aside. “I've no pyjamas, though. Such a shame – I'll just have to sleep naked.” Garak's neck ridges darken slightly; Julian's mouth is dry.

He feels a stab of _vicious_ satisfaction at having made Garak speechless for a moment. The trousers come off, next, once his boots are kicked off, and he walks into Garak's bedroom with a confidence that is _entirely_ acted.

Julian feels the Cardassian's eyes on his back as he shimmies out of his Starfleet standard briefs and then slides under the bed covers.

“Your confidence is unmatched, Doctor.” Garak says, and Julian watches him as subtly as he can as Garak sets his tunic aside. It's not like the ones he wears out about the station – the collar is wide and bears the ridges at the top of his shoulders, and it is of a stiff fabric as Cardassian fashion dictates, but it's not thick in the way the ones he wears about the station are.

In his own quarters, after all, Garak has no need for thermal under-vests.

Julian closes his eyes as Garak's hands loop in the belt of his trousers, and he presses his face against the pillow; he is struck by how much it smells of _Garak._ Garak's scent is a subtle one Julian has always done his best to carefully enjoy; honeyed and spicy and musky in a way few things from Earth are.

He inhales _deeply_ , enjoying being surrounded by _Garak_ for a moment or two, and then Garak slides into bed beside him. “This is an awful idea, you know.” Julian advises him, and then he presses himself forwards, pressing his body against Garak's and feeling how _cool_ the Cardassian skin is against his own.

“And yet here you are.” Garak murmurs, and then his arms wrap about Julian's waist: he pulls the younger man in, closely. Julian lets out a little noise, and has to concentrate not to roll his hips against Garak's thigh.

“Mmm.” Julian hums, and then he lies down, letting his eyes close. He delights in the juxtaposition of the delightful warmth of Garak's warmth and Garak's cool body; he lets out a quiet, contented little noise.

“Happy?”

“As a clam.”

“As a- a what?”

“Nothing.”

\---

It is months later that Garak offers a small amount of truth, when he and Julian are well-entrenched in a relationship both romantic _and_ sexual. His choice of moment to be truthful, of course, is something one could consider debatable. 

“What do you mean you did it because I'm _warm_!?” Julian asks, louder than he ought, and he ignores the chuckles of Jadzia and Sisko, and the amused smirk on Odo's face.

“Well, my dear, Humans are renowned for their high body temperature, and recently I _had_ been feeling the cold keenly-”

“ _Garak!_ ” Julian growls at him, and he can see the shifts in Garak's face as he reconsiders having revealed something not entirely fabricated for once.

“Oh, my dear, come now – I did _also_ feel something of an affection-”

“I don't want to here anymore.”

“My _dear_ -” Jadzia and Sisko share amused looks as Julian walks away, with Garak at his side and still trying to explain himself with his clever tongue.

“He has his match in Bashir, I should think.” Odo says grudgingly. Jadzia laughs.

“Sounds about right.”

 


End file.
